The Bird Cage
An aggressive visitor unsettles Lucia.
The Tombstone Prospector
Tombstone, Arizona
October 6, 1857
Local ranchers are raising concerns over an alarming increase in wildlife attacks on their land. Over the past month, the sheriff’s office received 6 reports of injuries or a loss of livestock. In one instance, Mr. Henry McKinley, a rancher, discovered his missing calf dead a mile away from his land.
The latest report was submitted by Mrs. Evelyn Williams, who checked on her chicken coop just in time to hear the footsteps of what she believed was a coyote ready to strike. While she admits that she could not see the beast, she successfully scared it away by throwing rocks and yelling at it.
Mrs. Williams described the coyote as appearing to be larger than average, with a growl so low that it seemed unnatural. These details have raised concern with some of the ranchers, questioning exactly what Mrs. Williams encountered that night.
The sheriff advises all ranchers and Tombstone residents to remain vigilant at night, especially out in the desert.
The Tombstone Prospector
Tombstone, Arizona
October 10, 1857
In a dreadful turn of events, a cowboy was found dead about two miles away from Mr. Lionel Jenkins’ ranch. The cowboy, simply known as “Wrangler John,” was hired by Mr. Jenkins to oversee his cattle for the night. It is believed that a mountain lion was threatening to attack, and Wrangler John lost his life in the battle against the animal.
However, some of the ranchers are not convinced that a mountain lion mauled the cowboy. Mr. Jenkins confirmed that his livestock were not harmed after the incident. Some speculate that a killer may be camping out in the desert seeking victims. Man or beast, the death of Wrangler John has shaken the Tombstone community.
The sheriff assures that he will do everything in his power to avoid another tragic episode.
One could barely hear the bouncing piano over the revelry of the Bird Cage Theater. Folks of every age and gender filled the spaces with revelry and life, but a handful of guests were lonely cowboys or miners looking for a cold drink and warm company.
Lucia Suarez’s nightly mission was to cozy up to a solitary client and get him to buy them both drinks until he swayed in his seat. Like every night before, she spotted a single miner walk through the double swinging doors.
His face and forearms were notably cleaner than his attire, no doubt an effort to clean himself up before entering the saloon. His dark, auburn hair was tousled and dusted with clay. His hazel eyes flippantly surveyed the space until he found an empty spot at the corner of the bar. Lucia dressed her face with a smile and approached from behind.
“Well, it’s always nice to see a new face in these parts!”
The miner turned around and sized her up. He approved the vision before him with a sensual grin. A typical response to any saloon girl.
“Why, yes it is. And what might your name be, pretty bird?”
This nickname was growing tiresome on her. Nevertheless, she kept her smile.
“I am Lucia. Do you have a name?” She asked, leaning closer to him. The miner took a sweeping glance at her chest before answering.
“The name’s Rupert Smith. Care to share a drink with me, Lucy-ah?”
She let her butchered name roll off her like a loose strand of hair.
“It would be my pleasure. Let me call our barkeep, Bill-”
“No, no. You just come here, sit with me, and look pretty. I’ll get us our drinks.”
He patted the seat next to him and commanded Bill’s attention. He ordered two whiskeys, and initiated a toast with Lucia. She began to tolerate her pre-determined drink of lukewarm tea. Meanwhile, Rupert shot down his glass and called for another.
“You sure seem thirsty.” She noted.
Rupert’s second drink chased after the first one.
“Ah, you don’t gotta worry about following my lead. You take your time with yours.”
If only Rupert knew that she held her tequila better than any man in Tombstone. There was only one man who could match her tolerance…
“How old are you?” He asked.
Lucia laughed.
“That’s a mighty bold question to ask any woman!”
Rupert took in her reaction, and for once noticed her face.
“A fine establishment like this would never permit a young girl to work in the saloon. I reckon you must be eighteen.”
“You reckon wrong, sir.”
“I am aghast!” He cried.
“Your height certainly lends to your youth, but surely I must be close.”
Standing at 5 foot 3, Lucia was, at times, confused for a student. Nevertheless, she winked at her companion.
“I’m afraid you’ll never know for certain.”
He chuckled in defeat, taking his third shot.
“It seems that you’re having a hard day all around.” She noted.
“Indeed. We lost another soul to the mines. He was like a brother to me.”
“I’m sorry to hear that. It must be difficult to work in the mines.” Lucia offered her sympathy by placing a hand on his shoulder. He fixated on her gesture, finishing off his third drink.
“You’re a sweet little bird, you know that?” He called for a fourth.
“Have you been married, Miss Lucia?”
She blinked. No patron ever asked about a saloon girl’s private life. Most preferred to live in the fantasy that the ladies want nothing more than to give them their undivided attention.
“You certainly enjoy asking the hard questions, don’t you?”
Rupert sought for her answer in her eyes. In return, she kept her thoughts focused on anticipating the ways he could respond.
“I believed I hit on a sore subject for you. I am truly sorry you have experienced sorrows.”
Lucia kept the facade of a carefree saloon girl, but underneath she pondered his true intentions.
“This life is a lonely one for someone like me. Death is always at our heels ready to strike. Makes a man think about what’s important in life.”
Confirming one of her anticipated replies, she withdrew her hand from him. But Rupert grasped it and locked eyes with her. Discomfort hung over them, yet he chuckled.
“Your eyes are so black it’s like staring into a cave. But you’re much nicer to look at.”
He looked her up and down, and then took both of her hands.
“A life in the saloon is just a cage for a bird like you. Let me set you free and make you my wife.”
Lucia exaggerated her laugh, catching Bill’s attention. It was her subtle call to keep an eye on the situation.
“Why, three drinks in and you’re already spilling nonsense! I can’t imagine what a fourth drink would do to you.”
She tried to pull away, but Rupert held on. In fact, she felt the tip of his nails press into her palms. How did she overlook his long fingernails?
“I promise I won’t be in the mines much longer. I’ll build us a home, you build us a family. Imagine the fun we’ll have in our little house…”
His eyes clouded with lust. No doubt he was planning out the fun they’ll have in his bedroom. Lucia finally escaped his claws, breaking his fantasy.
“My answer is no, and that is final.”
Rupert defiantly reached under Lucia’s skirt, but she quickly grabbed the hidden dagger on her garter and cut his cheek. She pointed at his throat.
His face scrunched tighter with every shallow breath he took.
“You. Goddamn. Greaser!” He cried as his voice dropped into a deep and jagged pitch.
Lucia froze in place, desperately gripping her knife. His nose collapsed and reformed to resemble a canine’s snout. His eyes emitted a striking yellow glow. His facial hair gradually filled his jawline. The frantic pounding of her heart overruled the saloon chatter.
Suddenly, Rupert was pulled away from her. He took a punch to the jaw and collapsed. In his place was a tall, dark haired cowboy glaring downward. It was then that Lucia noticed the silence. Everyone’s attention turned away from the theater show and towards the scene.
Rupert got on his feet. Aside from the bruise blooming on his jaw, it was clear of any facial hair. But the shadow of hate on the cowboy’s face confirmed that she didn’t imagine things. Drunken, boorish men are a dime a dozen. He knew something about this miner to warrant that look.
The two charged for a brawl, knocking over chairs and tables over Bill’s command to take the fight outside.
“I am happy to oblige.” Said the cowboy.
He grabbed Rupert by his collar and dragged him out, who left behind a string of curses toward him and the establishment. When he flung a curse at Lucia, the cowboy threw him out the swinging doors.
Lucia tried to watch the fight through a window, but they were out of her view. She heard several shuffles and punches before a gunshot rang the street. There was a soft, canine whimper before a body hit the ground.
The Bird Cage Theater set off on a torrent of gossip about the cowboy. Simply known as Chase, he lived outside of Tombstone but occasionally visited to pick up supplies for his farm or to network. Like any other cowboy, he enjoyed visiting saloons to unwind.
“He’s never taken a special liking to any of the saloon girls - except for now.” Bill raised a singular eyebrow at Lucia.
One of the other saloon girls, Clara, laughed at the suggestion.
“It ain’t got nothing to do with her. He clearly has history with that miner. Which is too bad, because I was ready to steal him away from you.” She threw a taunting look at Lucia before finding a new lonely miner to entertain.
“You sure you’re alright? You looked like you done saw a ghost.” Bill asked.
“I’m fine. He is not the first or the last man to make an advance.”
Just then, Chase returned to the Bird Cage. Clara abandoned her guest and greeted the cowboy. He offered a polite smile and asked her a question. With a sour expression, she pointed right at Lucia and returned to her smitten guest. Bill remained by her side.
“You all right, miss?” Asked Chase. He rested his hands on his silver Concho belt buckle.
“Yes, thank you, sir.” She answered. The life of a cowboy only emphasized his attractive features, bringing an air of ruggedness to a symmetrical face.
“I saw he was patronizing your time before his…outburst. It’s only right you get paid for your time.”
Chase presented a satchel that just barely fit his hand.
“I only got coins, but this ought to do it.”
Lucia accepted the satchel with two hands, proving that there were, indeed, only coins. Before she could thank him, the cowboy was halfway out of the saloon.
“It’s best you count that in your room. You’ll need all the time to go through it.” Bill said with a grin.
She smirked and rolled her eyes before leaving the bar and climbing the stairs to her room.
Every saloon girl was given free room and board for working at the Bird Cage. Her private room was just enough to fit a twin bed, a clothes trunk, a desk, and a large window facing the town below. Lucia sat on her bed, untied the satchel, and quickly realized that it was all pennies.
“Pinche gringo.” She muttered.
She pushed around the coins, refusing to believe that he paid her exclusively in pennies. To her dismay, it was a bottomless pit of copper - until something silver caught her eye. She extracted the silver outlier expecting it to be another coin. Instead, a bullet rested between her thumb and index.
The silver bullet brought to mind a story a cowboy boasted about a while ago. Allegedly, he was out in the desert when he was attacked by a werewolf. He “valiantly” fought the creature, nearly dying if he hadn’t shot it with a silver bullet. Conveniently, he did not have silver bullets on him to corroborate his story. No one was convinced. He pointed out that there was an ongoing issue of farm animals being killed in the middle of the night, but everyone assured him that any number of wild animals could have gotten to them. In the end, his outlandish story earned him a night with Clara.
Lucia painstakingly counted all 725 pennies, covering not just the drinks but a modest tip for her time. She made a note to set aside the cost of drinks and a tip for Bill. As she gathered the pennies, she separated the silver bullet and kept it inside her desk drawer.
Lucia’s drifting to sleep was punctuated with Rupert’s twisted face, until she found herself sitting in one of the private balconies of the Bird Cage. She was toasting and laughing with Chase until she noticed iron bars blocking the balcony. She left him behind and approached the bars.
The saloon below was empty of any guests, chairs, or tables. In the middle of the floor, she spotted the large, wide back of a wolf. Except this wolf was at least a foot taller than Bill, who already stood at six foot two inches. Its hind legs and arms seemed long, and nearly human-like. The most disturbing detail of her vision was the human corpse it hovered over.
While the werewolf blocked most of the sight, she instantly recognized Manolo’s hair matted with his blood. Before she could think to scream, the werewolf leapt for her with a deep and menacing bark.
Lucia stumbled backwards and gasped awake in her single bedroom.
Navigation Page / Part 2
Thank you for reading!
The Penny Bullet takes place in Tombstone, Arizona, and the Bird Cage Theater was a real saloon that still operates today. There’s a lot of neat historical facts about the saloon, which you can read about here.
Here’s some historical fun facts that influenced this chapter:
1) If the saloon girls were drinking with a guest, they were purposefully served tea to avoid getting drunk, and to avoid losing their alcohol supply.
2) The term “greaser” was a real racial slur against Mexicans, implying their “uncleanliness,” among other pejorative connotations. (Hooray for racism! /sarcasm)
Part 2 will go live December 2024!